


Take Your Time

by Mishafied



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Polyship Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafied/pseuds/Mishafied
Summary: Now the time has comeThere's no place to runI might get burned up by the sunBut I had my fun.





	Take Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> hashtagsorrynotsorry

It was a longer drive than usual to the campsite. Or at least, it felt that way. Maybe he got there in record time, but it still felt as if it took years to make it to where the blue smoke reached up into the night sky. To Prompto, it had always looked as if that blue smoke exploded and scattered to become the dense stars that lit the pitch black of the countryside.

He tried to take a deep breath. Didn’t quite manage it, but that was okay. He still had time to get everything ready.

He stumbled out of the truck, and nearly sprawled face first in the dirt. The night air was cold against his skin, and in the distance, he heard the howl of a sabertusk. On the horizon, he could see the lights of Insomnia bleeding into the sky.

Another deep breath.

He had time.

He didn’t want to have any more mishaps. Gladio had always called him clumsy, and now wasn’t the time to prove him right. He opened the back of the truck, wishing not for the first time that he still had the power of the armiger at his fingertips. But he could do this the old-fashioned way.

He hauled the chairs up the ramp two at a time. It was slow going, but he was determined to make sure that everything was perfect. His arm throbbed all the way up to his shoulder, and then his chest, but he persevered until every chair was unfolded around the blue fire.

He stopped and focused on breathing for a moment, but he felt like a dualhorn was standing on his chest. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and the whole right side of his body was slowly going numb.

He looked back at the truck.

He had time.

Not much, but he had time.

He made his way down to the truck one more time, and he grabbed the last bag from it before he turned to make the trip back up to camp. His right arm was nearly useless, and his right leg threatened to give out, his foot leaving a groove in the dirt where it dragged with each step. He dropped the last bag by the fire and unzipped it clumsily with his left hand.

He pulled out Gladio’s book first. Gladio hadn’t finished reading it yet- the bookmark was still tucked away amongst the pages, just past the halfway mark. He dropped it onto Gladio’s chair, and then started back toward the bag.

He fell hard this time. His breath was coming in short gasps as he struggled back to his hands and knees, only to have his right arm buckle under the slightest weight. His sleeve felt wet and heavy, clinging to his skin uncomfortably, and he huffed out an exhausted laugh as he used his left arm to push himself up.

He was almost done. He could do this. He had to get the camp ready.

He hobbled the rest of the way to the bag, and this time his hand closed around a can of Ebony. It wasn’t exactly cold, and no doubt Ignis would complain, but hey, it was better than no Ebony at all, right? Ignis always told him it was the thought that counted. He was definitely thinking about this. A lot. All the brain power he had was going into this, so that should make it one damn good can of Ebony.

He put the can of Ebony on the second chair from the left, and then gripped the arms of the chair as his vision swam.

Almost out of time. He needed to hurry.

He pushed himself up and went back to the bag. Two more items, one he left on Noctis’ chair, and the other he carried with him back to his own chair. He dropped down into it, cradling the camera in his lap as he fumbled for his phone with his only working hand.

He tapped out a brief message and hit send. With that done, any strength remaining in him fled like a flame blown out by the wind, and he let the phone drop to the ground. He relaxed back in the chair and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow, his left hand set on the camera, and his right arm hanging uselessly at his side.

“Well. I do appreciate the effort, though you may have gone a tad overboard.”

Prompto smiled and choked on a quiet laugh at the sound of that all-too-familiar voice. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth. “Nah…I didn’t set up the stove,” he managed, his voice shaky and rough. He opened his eyes to find Ignis in the chair beside him, his legs crossed, sunglasses on, and the can of Ebony held in one gloved hand. “Wanted to m-make sure it was all ready for you guys.”

Ignis hummed softly, his head tilting toward Prompto in that way it always did when he wanted to show he was listening. “I would be here with you, no matter if you bribed me. It’s only polite to return the favor; you did the same for me, albeit under…different circumstances.”

“And the other guys?”

“They’ll be here,” Ignis said, his voice softer. “It’s more difficult for them. It’s been…a long time.”

“Right,” Prompto breathed out. He was shaking so hard that he could barely grip his camera. When he spoke again, his voice was hardly above a whisper. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“Are you afraid?”

Prompto’s lip twitched in what was almost a smirk. “Nope,” he said, and he turned his head toward Ignis, wishing he could reach out to him. “You’re here, Iggy. W-Why would I be scared?”

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. His vision blurred, and the pain faded, giving way to an almost pleasant numbness.

“Come on, then. It’s time. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Prompto felt warm hands take hold of both of his, a firm pull, and then there was nothing but light.

Hours later, Captain Amicitia arrived at the campsite, her phone clutched in her hand and her face tear stained. She rushed to Prompto’s side, but even as she reached out, her shoulders slumped with resignation.

“Oh, Prom,” she breathed out, brushing his hair back from his face. A movement to her left caught her attention, and she looked past the nearest chair, past the can of Ebony on the ground, to the chair furthest to the left.

On the chair, in the dim light of dawn, was a faded photograph of four young men and a car.


End file.
